Pillars of the Empire
by The Otherworlder
Summary: What makes a glorious nation? Money, money, an army and technology to back up that money, decent bureaucracy, some strategic alliances  and marriages  on the side, and more money. Tales of the Reunified Kingdom in the Fourth Age.
1. A Queen's Price

**AN: Re-watching LOTR movies (in Blue Ray!) may not be the best idea for my holiday, because now I am hopelessly stuck in this fandom once more. But since I came back from reading/writing a hell lot of historical fiction, I wanted to insert those things that really intrigued me in history into LOTR as well, namely: politics and political structure, economics, trade, technology and its progress and spread, etc. So this story is mostly about running the Reunified Kingdom in the Fourth Age, featuring Aragorn and Faramir prominently, with a good dose of Eomer, Imrahil, Arwen, and the rest. It's also more of a collection of little stories than a complete huge thing, though I try to be chronological. Hope you enjoy. **

**PS: Gondor is most definitely feudal by Tolkien's descriptions in the LOTR. I try to maintain the Prof's basic structure for Gondor, but I also want to give Gondor a more centralized/imperial spin.. So the King has more _stuff to do_, hence more stories. **

* * *

><p>1. A Queen's Price<p>

As the debate wore on, Faramir grew more and more anxious.

Convincing the Council to accept Lord Aragorn as King was no walk in the park, but it seemed easy enough now. After all, how many objections could be made against one who led a mighty fleet to Minas Tirith's defence, whose healing hand returned many from the shadows, and then rode at the head of an alliance of all Free People of Middle-Earth and emerged victorious against the Dark Lord? Indeed, not that many. And there were still many lords and captains of Gondor who remembered the Eagle of the Star and were only too glad to welcome the legend back into the White City.

Convincing the Council to accept an unknown, unseen, and utterly foreign (she was not even human!) Queen was another matter. Which lord would not want a daughter or a sister upon Gondor's throne beside the new King of the Reunified Kingdom? Which lord would be willing to surrender that position to some mystical fairy creature from the north? It seemed that only Imrahil and Faramir seemed to be defending the King's choice whole-heartedly. Imrahil was growing angry with the other lords, voice slowly rising. Faramir had to wonder about his uncle briefly; after all, Lothiriel was of marriageable age. Was Imrahil not tempted at all by the prospect of becoming the new King's father-in-law?

It was remarkable that Aragorn continued to look calm and relaxed throughout the debate. He wrapped his dark cloak around him, wearing the silk-and-fur finery embroidered with the White Tree and the Seven Stars as easily as his shadowy ranger gear. An enigmatic smile hung on his lips, as if he found the whole debate mildly amusing.

"Now, Lord Beleg," the King began after the said lord finished a rant about Gondor needing a high-born Queen of good Numenorean breeding, "You can hardly complain about the lineage of my affianced wife. She is, after all, daughter of the twin brother of Elros Tar-Minyatur."

The Council room became very silent for a few moments. The name of Elros Tar-Minyatur inspires pride in all descendants of the west, but if one was talking about someone being his _niece_, it may inspire some terror too.

"But my lord, the elves have diminished over the years," Someone finally protested after a protracted silence, "I hear they will be leaving our world forever. Surely Gondor needs a powerful ally, who is present, near, and will answer our call and lend us aid in times of need."

Faramir frowned. As much as he loathed to agree, this person does make a valid point. He was always grateful that the one who claimed his heart also happened to be the Princess of Rohan, whose connections and significance of alliance more than made up for the lack of Numenorean blood. (By Eru he hated himself for thinking thus, but being the Steward and a Prince of this realm, how could he not?)

"Indeed, the Eldar are departing our shores," Aragorn murmured softly. For a brief moment he looked aged and sad, and a heart-wrenching sorrow stole his grey eyes. But for a moment only. He raised his head a little, and continued on, "Yet the Eldar will not be leaving with all of their worldly possessions, and these must go somewhere. Have I not mentioned the size of my lady's dowry, gentlemen?"

Silence again, and Faramir blinked slowly. That was one very powerful argument, but one he also did not expect at all from his liege.

"I am sure there is enough to coat Minas Tirith in gold," Aragorn said, voice smooth as velvet "Not that I would put elven treasures of so many generations to such flagrant use. But the gold will be more than adequate to back a new mint, I deem, a new road or two, and for some much needed irrigation project on the southern plains. It would not do to ask a House of Gondor, no matter how noble and well-established, to produce such after so much war and destruction, no?"

And that was that. The Queen's throne was a coveted prize, sure, but who could outbid one who inherits the combined fortunes of Elu Thingol and the High King of Noldor?

After the Council concluded, Faramir walked with King, who said to him, "You look somewhat dumbstruck, my Steward."

"You said few words, but put forth reasons that brooked no argument," Faramir replied quietly, "I only did not expect that you would argue thus, Your Majesty."

"Surely you do not think I love the Lady Arwen for her Luthien-like beauty alone?" The King said with a laugh.

Faramir did not respond, for he could not really discern whether that was meant to be a jest. So instead he said cautiously, "Though my liege, there is not, or there should not be, any need for you to put forth personal wealth to back a mint, or to build new roads. The King's Vault is for the King alone."

Aragorn laughed once more. "Good Faramir, if you are saying that I should not take a single penny from Gondor's taxes and levies for personal use, I assure you I understand that point perfectly. It is so in the north also. As the Chieftain, I earn my wage."

"No, my liege, you mistook my meaning!" Faramir was rather flustered, and also somewhat terrified by the idea of his King earning a _wage_. He continued a little breathlessly, "All I am saying is that Gondor's treasury should provide for these things, not the King's. We may be running low, but now that the war is over, with good management, we should do. What would the Lady Arwen think of us when her gold is put towards mint and roads?"

"I assure you she would not begrudge this," Aragorn said teasingly, "And her treasure chest contains enough Dunedain gold as it is. By and by, who do you think pays Lord Elrond compounded interests on his loans anyway?"

And at that Faramir choked.


	2. A King's Wage

****AN: Many thanks to **Verity Kindle **for the review! And one more chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own, of course.

* * *

><p><strong>A King's Wage<strong>

Many would consider Faramir's desperate charge towards Osgiliath, ordered by his half-mad father, to be his most daunting experience. Faramir would beg to differ. Whoever thought a simple charge was daunting probably never had to prepare a kingdom's budget. Indeed, Faramir never had to prepare one before now, so he was filled with trepidation as he presented King Elessar with the first budget in Fourth Age. The fact that Aragorn's frown seemed to deepen as he read through the budget was not helping Faramir's nerves at all.

"Fear not, Faramir," Seeing his stress, Aragorn said consolingly, "The way you stretched this small amount of gold to cover so many needs is astounding; I cannot be more pleased about your work. Though, should not Gondor's income be much higher than this? Surely the kingdom's revenues could not have eroded _so _much since the days of Ecthelion! Do you have a detailed account of the revenues for me to see?"

Faramir hurriedly pulled out another sheet of parchment from his pile, handing it to his King. Aragorn only took a quick glance, before saying, "That was why the amount seemed paltry! This account of revenues does not contain tolls from roads and bridges, or levies from export and import. Is there another account, Faramir?"

Faramir stared at his King in wonder, feeling another surge of admiration and nervousness welling up. He did not expect his new liege lord, the unparalleled warrior and legendary captain, to be so quick when deciphering an accounting book! But that also meant he will have to answer the uncomfortable question much sooner than imagined.

"My liege, there is indeed another account," Faramir explained, "The tolls and levies go to the King's treasury, you see. It is the norm that the King provides the funds for the upkeep and expansion of roads and bridges, but otherwise the income is for the King. Only the money from land, and a portion of the tax collected by all the fiefdoms, goes towards the upkeep of Minas Tirith, the army and the fleet, and whatever other general needs. The ruling Stewards tried to adhere to this law as closely as possible, collecting the tolls and levies for only the maintenance of roads, and the King's vault."

Aragorn seemed genuinely puzzled. "Has it always been so? So large a portion of the Kingdom's income does naught but sit in a vault?" Here he shook his head, saying, "It could not be so. Without these tolls and levies, the Lord Ecthelion could hardly afford a standing army of the size that I once commanded."

Here it comes, Faramir swallowed. He took a deep breath, before saying quietly and slowly, "In the past two centuries, as the Shadows in the East grew, Gondor sometimes had had to make use of the King's income in order to maintain her army, among other things, my lord." In fact, sometimes even the accounting of these two supposedly separate revenues was mixed into one to save time and effort. But Faramir was not about to mention that fact without Aragorn specifically asking for the accounting. Being honest is important, but there is no point to calling down your King's wrath over something done and past.

Yet Aragorn only seemed relieved. "Good, as it should be," He said with a smile, before surveying the various pages with rows upon rows of numbers in front of him again. After a moment of silent reading, he took up a quilt, and began writing on a blank page quite fervently. He commented as he wrote, saying, "It's a relief to know there is much more money than what you first presented me with. Now we can afford to be more generous with the widows and the orphans; we owe them such after their fathers and husbands fell in defense of Gondor. And those disabled by the War as well, they must be taken care of. We also should set aside money for loans to farmers and traders; it is your grandsire who taught me how important these are…" He added a few more things on the list, before pushing it towards Faramir, "Will you add these to the budget, Faramir? Put all of Gondor's income towards it."

Faramir breathed and nodded quite eagerly. Praise the Valar, the new King was not only valiant, but also generous! He was already estimating how long it would take for Gondor to wean herself off of the King's income, (perhaps three years? Four if reconstruction progresses slowly), when Aragorn spoke again. "Faramir, I do not see how we can ever balance the budget if we continue to divide the income thus. The money from land alone is not enough to maintain Gondor. In the future we shall put all tolls and levies towards the general revenue, save the levies from the Harad Road. What think you?"

"What?" Faramir was aghast, "Sire, you jest! How can Gondor rob the King's Vault?"

"Hardly, my good steward; I imagine the King's Vault to be overflowing."

Well, it was overflowing just a little, with treasures sometimes going in and never going out in the past thousand years. But still. "That is hardly the point, my liege!" Faramir protested, "How can we rob you of your income, you, our King!"

Aragorn laughed a little and patted the young man's shoulder. "I did say I shall keep the levies from the Harad Road, and mind you, Faramir, for a good reason. I traded down that road for a while to gain entry to Harad, and know very well what kind of income to expect from it. It is not that I desire no gold for myself. Every man needs some coins for himself, to be used without questioning from others. I would not like the Council hounding my steps when I buy a mumakil…"

"When you buy a _what_, my liege?"

"A mumakil, Faramir. They are beautiful and noble creatures, that is, when they are not driven to war by Shadows and madness. Indeed, I had wanted one ever since that time in Harad…"

It is impossible to say which is worse, Faramir thought miserably, to have a King who bankrupts himself building castles or houses for the dead, or a King who would like to buy a war machine of the (former, hopefully) enemy nation…

"But we digress, Your Majesty," Faramir cleared his throat and said, "Harad road alone is _hardly_ a worthy income for the High King of the Reunified Kingdom!"

"I have income in Arnor too, Faramir."

"Then it is hardly a worthy income for the King of Gondor!"

Aragorn was quiet for a while, looking at Faramir thoughtfully. An amused look stole his eyes, and eventually he said with a slight curl of his lips, "Well, my good steward, Gondor can always pay me."

Faramir could only stare at his lord, jaws agape. He remembered Aragorn saying that he "earned his wage" as the Chieftain of the Dunedain, and that disturbed him even when interpreted figuratively. To think Aragorn would raise the issue of _wage for a King_!

Aragorn laughed at his stupor, but only went on smoothly, "Your grandsire paid me eight thousand silver Crowns as a Captain of Gondor, which was comparable to that of a minor lord, I am told. The Lord of Lebennin had an income of six hundred thousand then, matched by your mother's house only. The sum of all levies and tolls from the year past minus that of the Harad Road was just shy of nine hundred thousand, though I would hazard to guess that this sum would increase swiftly now that the War is over and trade and travel recover. Referencing these sums, I would say two hundred thousand a year is a fair wage for the King. What say you, my good steward?" A pause, then he added one more line, "Of course, starting next year, Faramir. I should still like to see everything on my list appear in this year's budget, so Gondor cannot be short of that two hundred thousand."

Too much fair and logical reasoning, and Faramir could not argue against that, but he would still like to pound his head against _something_.


	3. The Thing about Comparative Advantage

3. The Thing About Comparative Advantage

The third year of the Fourth Age, Aragorn brought an enormous delegate of traders from the Northern Kingdom down south. Of course Eomer was only too happy to welcome these hulks and wares. Who _wouldn't _want some dwarvish toys or the best of Shire's dried fruit?

"Tell me of the traders and the goods you brought, Elessar," Eomer asked when he and Aragorn settled down in a private room after the merry welcoming feast.

"Exactly what you would expect from the north," replied Aragorn, "Tanners with a variety of hides and leathers, a farmers' delegate representing Shire, with their canned fruit, honey, tea and the finest tobacco leaves. I do hope they will have some _Longbottom _left for my people when they reach Gondor. Dwarves from Erebor brought their best jewellers and craftsmen, and more stonemasons. Is three more work to be done at Hornburg? I shall not begrudge you these most excellent masons should Rohan has the need. And from the Dunedain in the north, a group of weavers and horse breeders."

Eomer was listening happily with a drink in hand, but at Aragorn's last line he spewed out all the mead in his mouth.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him.

"Did you say a group of _horse breeders?_"

"Surely you do not expect that horse breeders are only to be found in Rohan," Aragorn said mildly.

"So you brought them to Rohan to learn of our arts? Ah, you are very welcome then." After Eomer formulated this seemingly likely explanation, his shock abated and his mood improved quickly.

Aragorn only seemed more amused. He said with a laugh, "Now here is the legendary pride of the horse-lords! You always seemed to me of an open, receptive mind, my friend, if not actually humble. But I see that as soon as horses are involved, your good senses desert you! My horse breeders brought many steeds, Eomer; they mean to make a business selling them."

"They mean to sell horses in Gondor?" Eomer frowned, "Elessar, Gondor's market has always been ours!"

"All is fair in love and... ah, the free market," Aragorn said with a twinkle in his eyes, "But I am sure they mean to sell horses in Rohan too."

Eomer raised his chin like the proud stallion he was and said, "Now my lord Elessar, were it any other man saying these things to the King of Rohan, I would have taken grave offence. To think Rohan would need to buy horses from others!"

Aragorn only poured himself another cup of mead and said calmly, "The steeds my people brought from the north are work horses, my friend. Beasts that drag the plough in the fields, move the millstone, or carry heavy load across long distances. The Rohirrim have no need of these horses? You can hardly expect the _mearas_ to be a wagon horse."

Eomer's frown only deepened. "We Eorlinga breed work horses too! Now Elessar..."

Aragorn didn't let him finish; he interjected with a mild shrug of his shoulder and said, "And Eomer King, my people also sell those horses for ten pennies a steed."

"The point is, the very idea of buying horses from others seems strange and certainly insulting to..."

Eomer suddenly stopped blabbing on, for Aragorn's words finally sank in and gave that little "click" in his head. "Wait, what did you say? How much for a work horse?"

"Ten silver pennies, good friend."

"Ten pennies," Rohan's young king stared so intently one would think him afraid to blink. He said very slowly, "Ten pennies, as in, the price of three hogs, or two sheep's worth of fleece."

"One and half sheep's worth of fleece if it is that beautiful wheat-coloured one from Westfold." Aragorn said, now laughing openly.

"Alright, fair enough," Eomer said with shining eyes, "Say, how many steeds did they bring? And you aren't going to impose a quota, are you, my lord Elessar?"


	4. Treasure of the Morgul Vale

Many thanks to all my reviewers! I am very glad to hear from you all. Thanks to Linda for pointing out my slips. Hope to see more reviews; they motivate me to write faster! (wink wink)

Now cleaned up a little. I admit I am terrible at proof reading...

**4. Stealing from the Enemy (Only because they are impeding progress for Mankind by not sharing!)**

After a few years into the Fourth Age, Elessar's penchant for running amuck in the wilds with no more than a ranger or two to guard his back became a legend of sort in Gondor. Faramir could only sympathize with his King; after all, he too tired of the courtly protocols and stiff Council conversations from time to time. His King was even more of a private and free-roaming spirit than he. In fact, Faramir would have to say that the frequency of his King's stranger outings showed true self-restraint, if anything.

But sympathizing is one matter, finding your liege lord sneaking about Ithilien in the dark, a thief in his own kingdom, accompanied by men of Harad is another matter altogether.

When his rangers reported to him at nearly midnight that they caught four suspicious looking men stealing through the woods, Faramir was first alarmed. The King was traveling towards Ithilien and was due to arrive in two more days; the appearance of strangers wandering the woods at such a moment bodes ill! Ithilien may be cleansed of most of the enemies, but one never knows what lurks in the Shadows. But when the rangers hesitantly presented him with a small leather pouch, saying that one of the men requested to have this token delivered to the Prince, Faramir did not know whether he should laugh or cry.

Inside the leather pouch was Elessar's signet ring. So the King has arrived, in the depth of the night, sneaking about as if he were still a ranger, or worse, an enemy. For that brief moment Faramir wondered if he should pretend he received nothing this night and have Elessar spend a night in a holding cell, but his honour and loyalty would not allow it. So he carefully stored the leather pouch in his pocket and went to see the "prisoners".

Indeed, the High King of the Reunified Kingdom was sitting inside a prison cell, dark cloak wrapped around his body securely, a hood covering half of his face, and looking remarkably comfortable for a prisoner. Faramir would have bowed out of habit, but Aragorn stopped him with a look that meant "we are on secret business here", and pointed towards his companions. Aragorn had three companions, one Faramir recognized as Halladan, a Dunadan of the north and the King's own cousin. The other two were indeed Haradrim, dark of skin and dark-haired; one had the look of a merchant, and another boasted such impressive stature that he could only be a warrior.

Faramir drew a deep breath, before all but _barking_ at his King in Sindarin, "My liege, this is _madness_!"

Before Aragorn could reply, Halladan said with an amused sigh, "Yes it is, and thank you, my Lord Prince, for telling him such."

"Though you call me mad, dear cousin, I shall still offer you your proper share of the profits when this business bears fruit," Aragorn said in the Grey tongue, face neutral and voice mild, "Now my good steward, do let us pass through these lands. I cannot be gone for that long, so I would like to reach Morgul Vale by noon on the morrow."

"_What?" _Faramir blinked a few times, before saying vehemently, "By the Valar! I spoke too hastily, my liege, _this_ is the true madness." He took a few breaths to calm himself, before asking, "What do you plan to do in Morgul Vale, my lord?"

"I hunt a treasure," Aragorn said, a gleam suddenly stealing his keen grey eyes, "No trinket like the Enemy's Ring, perhaps, but still a treasure that will enrich us immensely."

Faramir eyed his King skeptically, before gesturing discreetly towards the two men of Harad, "You hunt a treasure with them, my lord? And tell me not the treasure you seek is dragon gold, or I _will_ lock you in this holding cell. "

"Nay, not dragon gold, I am not quite so mad yet, Faramir!" Aragorn laughed, "And those two men of the south are my guides. Purchasing their knowledge and aid took a fortune, my good steward, so we better move now to recover that investment in good time."

Halladan said wryly, "A fortune indeed! Half a dozen perfect Belfalas grey pearls the size of a dove's egg was given to this good gentleman here, and that was the down payment only."

"All the more reasons to move swiftly and succeed."

Faramir could only sigh resignedly and nod his assent. "Your wish is my command, Your Majesty," He said, "But I am accompanying you, my liege, and you cannot refuse me that."

The group of suspicious thieves in the night, now five in total, moved on towards the infamous Morgul Vale. By noon they reached the valley of poisoned flowers, and despite the sun in its zenith overhead, the valley still felt unbearably cold. It was early summer, so the valley was full of bright colours. Tall green trees and bushes crowded the valley, many decked with pink and white blossoms that gave off a sweet yet nauseating scent. Closer to the ground, lily-of-the-valley and corn lilies bloomed a little too vigorously.(1)

"Trust the enemy to create a valley so fair yet so utterly treacherous," Aragorn said quietly.

Faramir looked on with dread. He did not want to set foot in that evil valley, not one step forward! It was only the High King of Men beside him that stopped him from bolting.

"The treasure is indeed hidden in this valley, as I have seen with my own eyes when I passed through this valley before," Aragorn spoke again, this time in Westron, voice grave like a captain giving orders to charge, "We seek a kind of tree, with branches and leaves akin to that of an oak, though the leaves have serrated edge. It should be bearing fruit now, which look like gooseberries and are either nearly black, or white in colour. And beware! Nearly every flower in this valley is poisonous, so we cannot tarry long here. Keep your gloves on! And be careful what you touch. If the scent of flowers is making you light-headed, move somewhere else, or out of the valley altogether. The Enemy may be gone, but his once stronghold is still capable of killing."

With that they all ventured forth, each heading to a different patch of the valley, looking around at every tree and bush. It was Faramir who first discovered the tree they sought, and he was mildly surprised by its beauty and grace. It indeed looked like an oak, growing tall and strong though the tree still seemed young. The leaves were pale green and nearly translucent under the high noon sunlight. A cluster of deep purple fruit that looked like berries hung on a branch in front of Faramir. He extended a hand—still gloved, of course—to touch the fruit gingerly.

And a worm climbed onto his hand.

Faramir turned a shade greener and had to fight mightily hard to suppress the childish scream threatening to escape his mouth. He never liked worms of any sort, but this one seemed especially evil and ugly. It was long and thick like a lady's finger, chalky white and all fleshy and squishy, with so many little feet and a blackened head. Faramir was about to swing his hand free of the worm and _step _on that miserable creature, when Aragorn rushed up to him with a cry.

"Careful, my friend! You better not crush that thing worth its weight in diamonds under your boot!" The King put a firm hand on Faramir's arm, and carefully letting the white worm crawl onto his own palm, grey eyes gleaming bright. "We found our treasure, I deem, though I would feel even more confidence once our southron friends confirm the finding."

Even as he spoke, the two Haradrim stepped near as well. They first studied the tree, then the worm on Aragorn's palm, and both were nodding vigorously. The merchant-looking southron searched around the tree a while, and then showed the Gondorrim a handful of white cocoons. The way Aragorn's face lit up upon the sight of these cocoons was more befitting of the viewing of Silmarils.

"What is the significance of this, my lord?" Faramir asked, feeling completely at a loss.

"This, my friend," Aragorn said holding up a cocoon, carefully pulling the fiber loose for him to see, "Is where silk comes from."

Faramir stared at his King for a very, very long time. Finally he found his voice and commented weakly, "This discovery cannot be so good for our southern neighbours. We just learned the secret to their most expensive export!"

"Why else do you think I had to bribe this merchant half a dozen of Belfalas's best pearls as a down payment alone?" Aragorn said amusedly, "I owe him three dozen more of these pearls, if you care to know, and a few rubies, and a _mithirl_ shirt."

"And I still marvel at how cheaply we bought his loyalty!" Faramir exclaimed.

"Maybe not so cheap," Aragorn said thoughtfully, "It would seem that to them, this valley is all but paved in gold."

Faramir turned to look at the two Haradrim, and was astounded to see that they both carried cloth bags now full of what appeared to be leaves and flowers.

"Do they not know those sweet smelling flowers are extremely poisonous? One bloom alone can kill a child!"

"I asked when they first started collecting those flowers," Aragorn answered wryly, "And I was told that a small dose of these flowers mixed with other herbs and honey can suppress pain and cure coughs. Apparently the flowers are so effective and yet so rare in Harad, even dried ones will fetch an excellent price. It seems they only grow in abundance here in Morgul Vale."

Faramir was rendered speechless once more.

"Now that Sauron is gone forever, perhaps we can discover more good in those he once commanded, not least of all those flowers," Aragorn remarked, gazing at the two Haradrim, "Oh, and our good friend from the south asked if you care for some mulberries."

"Er…" Faramir eyed the southern man in front of him doubtfully. A few purple-black fruit sat in his extended hand, looking harmless enough except for that awful colour (Faramir never liked blackberries for the reason of colour alone). Faramir gazed around once more, taking in all the poisoned flowers and grass of Morgul Vale, and had to shake his head.

"You lack a sense of adventure, my lord Steward," Halladan remarked while taking the berries from the southron and plopping them into his mouth.

"Better that he offered you the berries of the tree," Aragorn said with a laugh, "Than the pupae of these worms, roasted. Even I lacked adventure enough for that one. Even some forty years later I cannot cease to wonder at all the oddities of Harad!"

* * *

><p>1 The red and white flowers growing on tall bushes I am talking here are oleander, which is toxic in every part. But it is very pretty, and has many medicinal uses too. Lily-of-the-valley, despite its beautiful name and appearance, is also very toxic. Corn lilies are also know as false hellebore and are one of those most potent poisons out there.<p> 


	5. The Tale of a Queen of Harad

**AN: Thank you for the reviews! Here is another chapter. I imagine Arwen will be making more and more of an appearance from now on XD**

**5. The Tale of a Queen of Harad**

Aragorn had always been an open-minded, receptive leader; he prefers negotiating a consensus (or else just make it a King's private matter altogether) rather than commanding obedience. Though, there are certain disadvantages to such benevolence, Faramir thought surly. For one, the poor King must always listen patiently, even to those uncouth, unintelligent, and unimportant minor noblemen who could only make the most ridiculous of assertions!

"So when he heard that Gondor's Queen sits in Council and speaks to the kingdom's affairs, he was most surprised," This particular nobleman continued on, hands waving dramatically, as if he were a troubadour, "'But Her Majesty is wise beyond mortal years!' So I told this southerner, of course she should sit on the Council and advice the King. But he shook his head most vigorously, and spoke to me of the tale of Queen Shaten of Harad, who lived and ruled some forty years ago in Harad. I thought the story fascinating, and would share it with all of your here."

Faramir sighed and rubbed his temple. It sounded innocent enough, but he knew perfectly well it was yet another rant against the Queen's seat in Council. When Elessar first remarked that he wanted his lady wife in Council, many lords welcomed, or at least assented to her presence. After all, how could one object to a Queen's advice, especially a Queen with three-thousand years of wisdom and lore? Unless the objector lacks wisdom himself, blinded by bigotry. And this particular unintelligent and unimportant dissenter didn't even have the courage to make his objections known to the Queen; rather, he preferred to tell a snarky story or two when the Queen was away. Faramir let loose a quiet and suffering sigh. At the head of the table, Aragorn neither spoke nor moved, only looked at the speaker with that steady and mildly interested gaze of his.

"Queen Shaten was born a merchant's daughter," So the story began, "Her father sold wood and furniture for a living. She grew up to be a famous beauty, so her father thought it might be a good idea to send her to the royal palace, to work there as a servant girl, you see. A beauty she may be, but that alone would not make her Queen, or even one of the many wives that the King of Harad is famed to have."

"The old King liked her enough, as a pretty young thing to look at. But the young and inexperienced Crown Prince fell madly in love with her. When the old King died and the Prince ascended to the throne, he immediately made Shaten one of his wives. It was soon revealed to the new King that Shaten was not only beautiful, but also cunning and bold. Her spies were hidden in every corner of the city, and nothing escaped her sharp eyes; she had a quick mind for scheming, and along with her womanly wiles, she could thwart any man, however noble or wise. She helped the King dispose loyal, but perhaps too outspoken, Councilors at court, and she made sure no one would ever speak against her husband. The King was so pleased that his wife would become such a useful political ally, and became even more enamored with her. Eventually he made Shaten Queen of Harad, and though the King still had many wives, only Queen Shaten ever bore him children. My lords, you might know that such a thing was unheard of among the Haradrim."

"So in love was the King, and so trusting of his wife, he eventually gave Shaten the right to sit beside him and act as his co-ruler. When he was ill and near death, he decreed to the whole of Harad that his wife would be the Regent for the young prince. He trusted his wife, but really! Can anyone be entrusted with such power? Queen Shaten so enjoyed ruling the kingdom of Harad, she was reluctant to return the power to its rightful owner, not even to her own son! Instead, her flesh and blood had become her worst rivals."

"She banished her eldest son, who died not even two years later away from the capital. It was said that Queen Shaten secretly put him to death. She terrorized her remaining two sons, driving them away from the capital as well. Eventually she declared herself King of Harad, and changed the name of the ruling house. So firm was her grip on the kingdom, even those most loyal could do naught but bow to her commands. It was only in her old age that her treachery was finally overthrown, and her children returned to the throne. But the terror had already been wrought! Dark were the shadows over Harad in those days, to be ruled by the lowly daughter of a wood merchant."

"So as the friendly southerner told me, never allow a woman into the seat of a man! For they are more fickle, more treacherous. Those were his words, at least. It seems to me an overstatement of sort, at least by a little. The Haradrim really think little of the fairer sex!"

So the story concluded, and the Council room became deathly quietly. All the lords, including Faramir and Imrahil, were looking at their king nervously, expecting him to slam a book, bark out a few cold, cutting words, or else show some signs of barely contained rage. But Aragorn held fast his level and mildly interested gaze at the nobleman who told the offending story. He looked at the ill-spoken one for a long time, before sighing softly.

"Aye, my lords," He said, "This tale does bring to mind an issue I should have discussed with Council long ago. The issue of heir and contingency." A meaningful pause here, long enough for all the lords to become_ really_nervous, and then Aragorn continued, "I have no heir of my body, as of yet, so in case of the worst misfortune, I need to know, and set out, an acceptable candidate to inherit my seat. Is there another who could claim the blood of Elendil, my lords?"

"None, Sire, of course not," Faramir replied almost automatically, "Had there been one, the House of Hurin would not have waited for a thousand years!"

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him, a small gesture that spoke of gentle skepticism and reproach. Faramir blushed to the roots of his hair. True, given how the House of Hurin treated Arvedui, his statement sounded almost like a blatant lie. But still. "There is truly none other, Your Majesty, not here Gondor, certainly," Faramir repeated, "Does my lord have a cousin or such kin in the north?"

Aragorn shook his head and answered softly, "Nay, I am the last of my immediate family. There are those with true Numenorean blood, though they do not number among the Edain."

So _this_was the King's purpose! Realization finally dawned on Faramir, and he dearly wanted to snicker. Or question Elessar if he had gone insane, that would be desirable as well. But for now he must go along with his Lord's schemes. So Faramir said slowly, "I see your meaning, Your Majesty. If you are indeed the last of the line of Elendil, then the only others who can lay claim to the thrones of Numenor hail from the House of Elrond. Lord Elrond is, after all, the twin brother of Elros Tar-Minyatur, which gives him a right to inherit Elros's legacy no matter what laws are in effect. His children, of course, would also number among the legal inheritors."

Aragorn let loose a bark of seemingly satisfied and amused laughter, before saying, "Then I believe the matters are settled. I am hardly entrusting Queen Arwen with undeserved power, my lords, only her birthright. Now, I hope the tale of Queen Shaten of Harad entertained you all, but I would advise you to search a little deeper before drawing any lessons from this tale. A traveler's story is hardly history! If there is no more business, let us end today's meeting; I will see you all in a fortnight's time. Dear Faramir, follow me, for I have some private affairs to discuss with you."

Once in private audience, Faramir quickly noted how gloomy his King looked. The silly story affected the King more than he let shown! Faramir surmised in his mind, surprised and worried. Silently, Aragorn led his steward into his private study, invited the young man to sit, before pulling out an ornate box and setting it on the desk between them.

"This, Faramir, is where my seal is kept. In this very desk, third drawer on the left. To open the box, twist this dial here seven complete turns to the left, then three turns to the right, and then two turns to the left once more," Aragorn said softly, "I have not thought of it before now, but it is high time I told you. You must take it should anything happen to me. Not that I expect anything to happen, but a King cannot afford to be ill-prepared for such things."

"Sire!" Faramir jumped up as if stung, "No, no, my Liege! I would never shirk my duties as Steward, but Queen Arwen holds your seal, as it is her right. Surely that tale did not affect Your Majesty so much? The Lady Arwen can hardly be compared to some wild woman from Harad!"

"Indeed, my Arwen is indeed completely different from Shaten of Harad, though perhaps my heart would rest a little easier if Arwen cared just a little more for power and glory!" Aragorn's tone was sharp, but not nearly as sharp as his words. He frowned, before continuing with a sigh, "I first loved Arwen for her beauty, the fairest to walk in Arda in our age; then I loved her for her subtle and gentle wisdom; in the end I loved her for her great love for me. But I never loved her for the Queen she might be. Despite Lord Elrond's words,, I never truly believed in such a day."

Faramir looked at his King with puzzlement. "But Queen Arwen lacks neither noble birth nor virtue and wisdom. And she certainly does not lack a dowry worthy of the Reunified Kingdom. Your Majesty made such an impenetrable case before the Council!"

"She would be glorious Queen, as long as I dwell in these halls," Aragorn replied, "Melian was the wisest and most powerful in all of Beleriand, yet her power could not equal her love for Elu Thingol. So great was her love that she could only follow when Thingol departed, and alas! That became the last undoing of Beleriand. Do you see my meaning, my dear Steward? Should I depart before my time, I need someone who holds supreme and unquestionable authority, and one who loves this Kingdom more than loving me."

A wave of sorrow suddenly crashed down on Faramir, and he had to fight mightily hard to not let any of it show. He nodded solemnly to his King.

Aragorn leaned back in his chair, wiping a hand over his face. When he opened his eyes again, the weary sorrow seemed gone, and he was back to his usual self.

"Now the serious issue is dealt with, I would yet settle a lesser score with you, dear Faramir," Aragorn said, grey eyes twinkling just a little, "I demand a little more respect for the Lady Shaten out of you! Wild woman of Harad? Hardly. She was no paragon of virtue, but still one of the greatest rulers Harad had ever seen. Her collection of low-born but truly capable men at court was as extensive as Lord Elrond's collection of fine vintage. Aye, if those men of Harad were but longer-lived, I would be sorely tempted to add their names to Gondor's reparation demands!" He finished off wistfully.

Faramir's chin nearly hit the floor. He stared at his liege lord incredulously, only finding his voice after a long, stunned silence. "You _met_the Queen Shaten?" He asked, "And I thought the story was half conjured!"

"The tale was false in many ways, but Queen Shaten was real enough," Aragorn shrugged, "And I was her Grand General of Conquering the West." Seeing that Faramir still looked like gaping fish, Aragorn laughed. "Yes, my friend, I know what you are thinking of. I _hated_ that title too."

* * *

><p><strong>Note: The tale of Shaten is based on Wu Zetian, the one and only female emperor of China. And there really was a title "Grande General of Conquering the West" throughout most of Chinese history too. I just thought it hilarious that Aragorn should get such a title. Absolutely befitting XD<strong>


End file.
